Ticket to Death: Haunted Collection Series Book 8

A faded old ticket glows with an unholy light… Historian Victor Daniels never planned to devote his life to battling evil spirits, or tracking down a collection of cursed antiques unleashed by ruthless occultist Stefan Korzh. But after months of clashing with paranormal threats, he’s developed a reputation as an investigator of the strange and bizarre. So when a rash of mysterious deaths strikes Victor’s home state, an old friend reaches out to him for help. As Victor investigates the chilling mystery, he is shocked to discover that the victims all died by drowning… within the safety of their own homes. Another cursed antique has been unearthed, a ticket for a steamer ship that sank over a century ago. The worn scrap of paper is haunted by the vengeful ghost of a passenger, and it must gather the souls of the living to complete its final voyage. Before Victor can put a stop to the murderous spirit’s killing spree, Stefan takes their blood feud to the next level, when he captures Victor’s adopted son. Following the madman’s trail to his sleepy hometown, deep in the Pennsylvania woods, Victor must confront his nemesis face to face. The final clash between good and evil has begun, and only one man can emerge victorious… PRINT LENGTH 199 Pages AUDIO LENGTH 7 hours and 1 minute NARRATED BY Thom Bowers PRODUCT DIMENSION 6 x 0.45 x 9 inches ISBN 979-8-89476-024-7 LANGUAGE English PUBLICATION DATE August 07, 2018   Read a Sample Chapter 5: Taking a Look Around Victor glanced over at Tom and asked, “Are you okay?” “Hm?” Tom blinked and looked at Victor. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.” “Okay,” Victor said. After a moment, the traffic light turned green, and he stepped on the gas. “So, I’ll be back tonight. You’ll be good with lunch and dinner?” “Yes,” Tom answered. “Iris will stop by to make sure I eat and all that good stuff.” Victor nodded as they turned onto Iris’ street. “Alright then. I’ll text you when I get into Green Tree, and when I’m headed back.” “Sure,” Tom said, getting out of the car. “Good luck. And be safe.” “I will,” Victor said, waving goodbye as the boy closed the door and walked up the long cobblestone path that led to Iris’ front door. Victor waited until Tom was let in before he pulled away from the curb and started on his trip. The traffic from Fox Cat Hollow to Green Tree was light, and within a few hours, Victor found the condominium development that Sara had spoken to him about. He drove around the private roads and found the unit where the odd death had occurred. Victor slowed down and focused his attention on the houses on either side of the condo, and the woods behind it. I can get to the back of the house through the trees, he realized and felt a pang of guilt. His face burned with shame as he thought about the secret pleasure that breaking into something brought him. It was an aspect of his personality that he had a difficult time accepting, despite its usefulness. Satisfied with what he had seen, Victor left the condominium development and searched for a place to park his car that wouldn’t draw too much attention. At least the car’s plates are from Pennsylvania, he thought. That shouldn’t make it stand out too much. Eventually, Victor parked in the lot of the Crowne Plaza Hotel, took a bottle of water out of his car, and slipped his iron ring onto his finger. He stretched a little to get the kinks out of his back, took a drink, and started the long walk towards the back of the dead woman’s house. After getting lost twice, Victor arrived after 45 minutes of walking. He remained in the tree line, watching the back of the house, looking for any item that might be out of the ordinary. Nothing drew his attention, and after half an hour, Victor stood up and approached the home. He moved toward a back porch and climbed the stairs gently, mindful of where he placed each foot. Some of the boards were soft beneath his feet, the rotting wood threatening to fall apart at his touch. He made it to the top without incident, and Victor was pleased to find the porch in considerably better condition than the stairs. When he reached the back side, he propped open the screen door and took out the lock pick tools he had made in the basement of his own home. There was a sense of pride and embarrassment as he used them. He had crafted them and they worked the way they were designed to. Within a minute, he undid the deadbolt, and thirty seconds later, Victor swung the door open. Immediately, he noticed the chill in the air and felt a strange, electrical sensation ripple along his exposed skin. When he glanced down at his forearms, he saw that the small hairs stood on end, and goosebumps had erupted along their length. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he crossed the threshold. The woman, according to Sara Milton, had died in the bathtub. Victor glanced around the room, getting his bearings, and saw the door to the garage was open as if it had been flung wide and forgotten about. He marked it as an item of interest and proceeded further into the house. Victor found the downstairs bathroom, which lacked a tub, and then he made his way upstairs. Both of the spare rooms had quarter baths, but it was the master bedroom’s bath where he found the tub. His teeth chattered from the cold as he stepped onto the tile. He flicked on the bathroom light and looked around the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “Who are you?” a voice asked from behind him. Victor turned around and saw a naked young woman standing in the doorway, blocking his exit from the bathroom. “My name’s Victor,” he replied, forcing himself to relax. “What’s yours?” She frowned, then smiled. “Nancy.” “Hello Nancy,” Victor said. “Do you know where you are?” “I’m home,” she answered. “I shouldn’t be.”